


The Proposal

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Feels, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Peggy Carter - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, Wanda Maximoff - Freeform, Wedding, clint barton - Freeform, friends - Freeform, pietro maximoff - Freeform, sam wilson - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Bucky’s pushy boss forces him to agree to marry her, hoping to secure her stay in the U.S. and avoid deportation to Canada. An AU based on the Sandra Bullock/Ryan Reynolds movie The Proposal.





	1. Part One

The sun was streaming through the curtainless windows, hot on Bucky’s face. He pushed himself up on one elbow, squinting, confused. The sun didn’t usually shine through that window until after eight. He opened one eye, checking the clock on the bedside table. It was blinking a bright red, the flashing 12:00 mocking him.

“Shit!” He shoved the blankets off the bed, his legs tangling in them as he struggled to get up, sending him crashing to the floor. The lady in the apartment below his, Mrs. Nedermayer, was sure to complain to the super about the noise, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table. It was almost eight-thirty. He was going to be late.

He had never gotten ready so fast, not even when he was going to college and he’d sleep until the last possible second before going to his classes. He was out of the shower in less than five minutes, in his suit with his briefcase in his hand five minutes after that, and the door two minutes later. Bucky kept checking the street and his watch as he ran; there were no empty cabs in sight and the clock was ticking closer and closer to nine a.m. He gave up on the search for the cab, it would be faster to run. Not that he was going to make it on time anyway.

By the time he hit the Starbucks a block from the office, he had less than fifteen minutes until he was supposed to be at work, if he was going to be there first. Bucky yanked open the door, only to be confronted with a line stretching from the counter to the door.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes, wondering if the coffee they sold at the little kiosk in the building’s lobby would be good enough. It took him about ten seconds to decide it wouldn’t be acceptable at all.

“Bucky!”

On the other side of the counter, the cute barista, Nicole, was waving at him, a tray with two coffees in her hand. He pushed his way through the crowd, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket as he elbowed people out of his way, earning himself several dirty looks along the way.

“You’re a lifesaver, doll,” Bucky said. “Literally. Thank you so much.” He traded her the money in his hand for the tray of coffee, flashed her what he hoped was a million dollar smile and hurried out the door.

He made it into the building just two minutes before nine, dropped his messenger bag behind his desk, slipped into her office, and set her coffee in front of her computer, right where she liked it. By the time he saw her coming down the hallway, he was back at his desk, computer on, acting like he’d been there for hours instead of approximately thirty-seven seconds.

Bucky watched as she made her way from the front receptionist’s desk through the office. Every person she passed in the hall and at their desks avoided making eye contact with her, suddenly very busy with whatever was on their computer screens, or their phone, or even the top of their shoes. Anything not to draw the attention of the woman that caused most of the office to cower in fear. She stalked past Bucky’s desk, nodding curtly before entering her office, the door slamming closed behind her. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from my desk drawer, anticipating the call he knew was coming.

Three minutes later, his desk phone buzzed. “James,” she said.

“Bucky,” he mumbled under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet, steeling himself for what was to come.

* * *

You settled yourself behind your desk, picked up your coffee, and took a long sip. As usual, it was perfect, just the way you liked it. Of course. You glanced through the glass walls of your office at the back of your assistant’s head. His chestnut brown hair curled over the collar of his suit jacket; it was really too long, at least as far as the corporation’s strict dress code was concerned, though no one ever said anything to him, including you. You liked his long hair, liked to imagine what it would be like to run your fingers through. Your eyes drifted down to his shoulders, so broad it looked like his suit jacket was about to burst at the seams. Your mind drifted, imagining what it would be like to run your hands over those shoulders, down his back, and -

Your phone chimed, signaling yet another text message from Bruce. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your coffee. Time to get to work. You cleared your throat and pushed the button connecting you to Bucky’s desk.

“James,” you said. He would know what it meant.

He was in your office seconds later, pen and paper in one hand, his coffee in the other. You took a second to take him in - his thick thighs, the shoulder muscles rippling beneath the suit jacket, the obviously fake half smile on his face, his bright blue eyes flashing with something that was probably irritation, the hair you wanted to run your fingers through, hair that appeared to still be damp, a thought that sent your brain off in all kinds of inappropriate directions, directions best left alone in the light of day. Everything about him screamed masculinity, screamed power and control. You had to bite the inside of your cheek and take a deep breath to calm yourself before you spoke.

“Have you read through those proposals yet?” you asked, your tone ice cold. No room for emotion in your world.

“I read them,” Bucky replied, nodding.

“Read them again,” you ordered. “And again. Look for anything we can use. I want to get those acquisitions taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

It drove you crazy when he called you ma’am. The way he said it always made your heart ache and not in a good way. You wished you could tell him how you really felt about him, not that you’d ever admit feeling any emotions whatsoever, let alone admit that you had feelings for your assistant. You hadn’t gained your reputation as the ice queen without good reason.

You glanced down the hall leading away from your corner office. “Is Gilmore here yet?”

“Hodge?” Bucky nodded. “I think I saw him go in his office.”

“Great, let’s go.” You pushed away from your desk and stalked past Bucky, fully expecting him to follow you, which, of course, he did. You stopped outside Gilmore Hodge’s office door.

“You’re going in there to make this look official,” you said. “I’m going to do the talking, you stand there and take notes.” You opened Gilmore’s door and stepped inside.

* * *

Y/N was like a machine, a robot - cold, calculating, uncaring. She always had been, since the day he’d come on as her assistant. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to catch her eye and secure the job; she was an important part of Stark Industries, running the pharmaceutical division almost single handedly. She’d recently started pushing the prosthetics department to up their game and their technology, something Bucky was passionate about. His greatest wish was to someday run that department on his own.

When he’d first started working for her, it had seemed like an amazing opportunity, a chance to rocket to the top, James Buchanan Barnes, the youngest executive at Stark Industries. That had been three years ago and he was no closer than he had been the day he’d started. To quote his best friend, Y/N was a crazy bitch and she was holding him back.

Bucky followed her into Gilmore’s office with no idea what they were doing; as Y/N had said, he was merely there to make whatever  _ this _ was look official. He stepped into the corner of the room by the window, observing. Y/N had a friendly smile on her face, though no one in this building thought of her as friendly. She made small talk, commenting on a new painting hanging on the wall, and asking a few leading questions before finally getting to the real reason she was there.

“Tell me Gilmore, have you talked to Bruce in development lately?” she inquired nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t overly concerned with his answer.

Bucky straightened up, intent on paying attention. He had a feeling he knew where this was headed. Bruce Banner was chief engineer, his focus on developing cutting edge technology for the companies prosthetics division. Bucky knew that he’d been close to perfecting a prosthetic that would bind painlessly with nerves and muscles, making it so much easier to control. Gilmore was overseeing the project.

“I don’t know,” Gilmore shrugged. “A couple of days ago. He can be difficult to pin down. Don’t worry, I’ll try and have a word with him today, Y/N.

Y/N shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. She was pissed, Bucky could sense it coming off of her in waves. He wasn’t sure how Gilmore didn’t see it; he was standing there with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

“I am worried, Gilmore,” she sighed. “Or, I was. I talked to Bruce last night. He called me because he hasn’t heard from you in weeks. He was extremely grateful that I took the time to talk to him. So grateful, in fact, that he begged me to take control of prosthetics. The tech he’s created could help hundreds of people. Hundreds, Gilmore.”

Y/N’s smile dropped from her face, replaced with the look that no one ever wanted to see, the look that had earned her the reputation of ice queen.

“You’re fired, Gilmore,” she said. 

“You can’t fire me,” Gilmore scoffed, though he didn’t look convinced and his voice was shaking.

“I just did,” Y/N smiled. “I want everything pertaining to Bruce’s research and development on my desk by noon. You have until the end of the day to transfer all of your files to James and get everything in order. The end of the day, Gilmore.”

Hodge’s eyes widened noticeably, his fists clenched at his side, and for a split second, Bucky thought he was going to have to step between him and Y/N; the look on his face was that deadly.

He dropped the book in his hand to the desk and took a deep breath. “You poisonous bitch,” he spat. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the head of Pharmaceuticals,” she smiled. “And you’re replaceable.” She spun on her heel, calmly opened the office door and left.

Gilmore looked at me, his eyes wide and incredulous. “Bucky?”

“I just work here, Hodge,” he shrugged. “I had no idea when we walked in here that she was going to do that.” Bucky didn’t wait for him to say anything else, he just turned and hurried after Y/N.

She was waiting by my desk. “Cancel any plans you have for the weekend. We’re going to have to go through Bruce’s research with a fine tooth comb. I want it ready to present to Tony on Monday.”

“This weekend?” Bucky grumbled. “I was going home this weekend; it’s my best friend’s engagement party.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her, she wouldn’t care. And Steve wasn’t just his best friend, he was more like a brother.

“Sorry, James, we need to get this taken care of.” She shrugged, her way of apologizing, and disappeared down the hall.

Of course, she didn’t care. Bucky picked up the phone and dialed Steve’s number, wading through his emails while he waited for someone to answer.

“Hello?”

Damn it, he’d been hoping he’d get his voicemail.  

“Hey, Steve.” He couldn’t help but smile, even though the news he was delivering was bad.

“Buck! Hey, man, how’s it going?” Steve hooted. “What’s up? You ready to come home for the weekend?”

“About that -” he muttered.

“Are you kidding, Buck?” Steve snapped. “You’re not coming home? For my engagement party? Jesus, we’ve been planning this thing for months. You cannot miss it. You’re my best friend, Bucky, my best man. You haven’t been home for, what, three years? Peggy’s gonna be pissed.”

“There’s nothing I can do, Steve,” Bucky argued. “It’s work.”

“It’s always work,” Steve huffed. “You need to stand up to that crazy bitch you work for.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed.

“Sorry,” his best friend mumbled. “You could talk to that lovely woman you work for and explain that you have to come home and why. I’m sure she’ll understand.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Is that so hard? Jesus, Buck, come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “Tell Peggy I’m sorry, too.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Y/N coming back down the hall. “I have to go.” He hung up the phone.

“Your family tell you to quit again?” she asked.

“Everyday,” he muttered. The phone on his desk rang and he snatched it up, fully expecting it to be Steve ready to chew him out, again. It wasn’t.

“Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts would like to see you in Mr. Stark’s office right away,” he said when he hung up the phone.

Y/N sighed heavily and crossed her arms, her foot tapping impatiently as she stared at a spot just above Bucky’s head, her brows drawn together, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Alright, come and get me in ten minutes, I don’t know, for a phone call or something. I don’t want to be stuck in there all day.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky replied.

* * *

There was that “ma’am” again. You had to stop yourself from cringing when he said it, especially when it was so cold and sarcastic. You couldn’t let it bother you, couldn’t let it get under your skin. You’d already had your one breakdown for the day, hiding in the bathroom, crying after the confrontation with Gilmore. You’d almost lost it again when you’d come back down the hall and saw Bucky on the phone, saw the way his face was twisted in sorrow, especially knowing you were the reason he was upset. You’d had to lock yourself down, force yourself not to care. You didn’t get where you were by being nice. No emotions, no matter what.

You took a second to smooth your skirt before stepping off the elevator. You stalked past Jarvis, Stark’s assistant, your back ramrod straight, giving him a curt nod. You plastered a smile on your face before opening the door.

“Good morning,” you smiled as you entered.

“Y/N,” Tony Stark, the genius philanthropist behind Stark Industries, said graciously. “Great job on those proposals for moving the medical supply transports into Sokovia.

“Thank you, Tony,” you replied. “I’m also going to be taking back control of the prosthetics department.”

“You’re going to have to put that on hold for now, Y/N,” Pepper Potts, Tony’s wife and CEO of the company interrupted. “We have a problem.” Pepper wasn’t one to beat around the bush. She had a tendency to speak her mind.

“Problem?” you inquired. “I don’t understand.”

“Your work visa has expired,” Pepper explained. “Care to explain how you let that happen?”

“I did put it off, but in my defense, I’m been extremely busy, and now there’s been all of this drama with Gilmore and Bruce,” you admitted. “But I’ll get it taken care of immediately.”

Tony shot a glance at Pepper, then sat forward, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. “It’s too late,” he stated matter-of-factly. “My contact at immigration looked into your case after we got the call. Short of getting married, there is nothing you can do. You have to leave the country, for at least a year.”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing ahead to all of the possibilities, how you could make this work, how you could be out of the country, yet still work for Stark Industries. “I can...I can work from Toronto, conference calls, Skype, email, whatever it takes.”

“You don’t understand, Ms. Y/L/N, you will no longer be working for Stark Industries,” Pepper cut you off. “It’s a stipulation of the deportation. You cannot work for an American company. Once a year has passed and if you are able to secure a new work visa, we’ll see about bringing you back on in some capacity.”

The door behind you opened and Bucky stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but you have a call, Ms. Y/L/N. I told her you were otherwise engaged, but she insisted, said it was important.”

Engaged. The word stuck in your head. Everything seemed to slip into slow motion, Tony and Pepper sitting at the conference table, saying something you couldn’t hear, the room spinning as you turned toward the door, and Bucky, standing there, continuing to speak, though his words weren’t registering anymore than Tony’s or Pepper’s. That word, it was flashing like a beacon, a safety beacon, in your head. Engaged. Engaged.  _ Engaged _ .

Your mouth opened and before your head could tell it to shut up, you blurted, “Alright, I wasn’t going to say anything, not yet anyway, but it looks like I’m going to have to. James and I are engaged. To be married.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open and if you hadn’t been a giant bundle of nerves, you would have laughed at the sight.

“I’m...I’m sorry...what?” he stammered.

“What?” Tony and Pepper said simultaneously.

“We’ve been engaged for a couple of months now,” you laughed. “I didn’t want to say anything, I mean, he is my assistant. Of course, we all know a thing or two about getting involved with our assistants, don’t we?” Pepper at least had the courtesy to blush. You laughed again, the sound twittering and hysterical to your own ears. “But, you can’t stop love. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” You held your hand out to Bucky.

You stared at him, silently begging him to play along. You were sweating, your heart was pounding, and quite frankly, you were scared shitless. What the hell were you doing? What if Bucky called your bluff? What were you even thinking?

Bucky stepped into the room, confusion plastered across his handsome face. “Um, yes?” he mumbled.

You breathed a sigh of relief, sidled up to Bucky’s side, and slipped your hand into his. You squeezed it, a silent thank you.

“Whatever, Y/N,” Tony chuckled, though Pepper’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Just go to immigration and get this taken care of, asap.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, sir,” you said, backing out of the room, pulling Bucky after you. “Right away.”

* * *

Bucky followed Y/N down the hall to the elevator. She was talking, her words falling on deaf ears, his deaf ears. He wasn’t listening to her; he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that apparently, he was now engaged to his boss. She never once acknowledged what had just happened in Mr. Stark’s office, instead she continued talking about work we needed to get accomplished in the next seventy-two hours. Every time Bucky opened his mouth to say something, she started talking about work. By the time they were at her office, she had laid out the next two weeks of work.

He waited until they were in Y/N’s office with the door closed before he spoke. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded.

“I think we just decided what we’re going to be working on for the next couple of weeks,” she shrugged. “Were you not listening?”

“I was listening when you told Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts we’re engaged to get married,” he snapped. “Information you forgot to mention to me, I might add.” Bucky was pacing the room, running his hands through his hair, agitated.

“Okay, James, look,” she said, sitting calmly behind her desk, her hands folded in front of her. “This is nothing more than a business agreement, beneficial to both of us.”

“I can’t wait to hear this,” he mumbled, dropping into one of the chairs directly in front of her desk. “Please explain.”

“You’ve been working for me for what, three years? If I leave Stark Industries now, you’re back to square one, starting over from scratch, clawing your way back to the top. But if I stay, if you agree to marry me, I can guarantee that you will be a junior executive by the end of the year. Which means everything you’ve gone through the last three years, all the shit you’ve had to take from me, well, it won’t be for nothing. All you have to do is marry me, keep it together for two years, then we get a quickie divorce, you’re an executive, and you never have to put up with me again.” Y/N took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap, waiting.

There was something on Y/N’s face that Bucky couldn’t read, something he’d never seen before. For the first time in the three years he’d worked for her, she actually looked vulnerable, human, and quite frankly, she looked scared.

“You’ll recommend me for an executive position?” he asked, staring at the floor between his feet.

“Yes,” she answered. “Before the ink dries on the marriage license.”

“Two years?” he inquired.

“Two years,” she agreed, nodding her head.

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. “But, I want it in writing by the end of the day, a copy locked in your safe, and a copy in my hands. If that doesn’t happen, if I don’t have it in writing, this marriage isn’t happening.”

“Thank you, James,” she whispered. “You won’t regret helping me.”

Bucky stopped at the door, his hand on the doorknob. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“I already do.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to go home and meet Bucky’s friends.

 

Bucky stared out the car window, watching the city flash by. He hadn’t been home to Brooklyn in three years, despite living only about forty-five minutes away in Manhattan. It was too hard to go home, too many memories, memories he preferred not to recall. He’d left home at eighteen, enrolling in college, and, according to his father, abandoning his family. Leaving to pursue his dream, instead of staying to run the family business, had driven a wedge between him and his father, one that had never healed. Both of his parents had gone to their graves far too early - his mother from cancer and his father from a heart attack - leaving Bucky alone and guilt-ridden. He hadn’t been back to Brooklyn since his mother’s funeral.

And now he was going home, with a fiancee and a phony marriage on the horizon. He couldn’t wait to see Steve’s face when he found out that he was engaged to a woman he supposedly hated.

Bucky glanced at his new fiancee out of the corner of his eye. She was flipping through the binder he’d put together, not really reading it, he wasn’t even sure she was really seeing it; her lips were drawn and tight, her brow furrowed in anger. They’d been arguing, again. She didn’t like the fact that Bucky knew so much more about her than she knew about him, right down to when she started her cycle every month. He’d been on one too many tampon runs not to know that tidbit of information. She’d tried tossing a few things back at him and failed miserably. Now, apparently, she was pouting. Bucky knew this trip was a bad idea.

He’d been surprised when Y/N had mentioned it at the immigration office, a backhanded comment about going home for Steve’s engagement party so they could announce their own engagement. Bucky had been shocked and immediately concerned at the reaction that information was sure to illicit. Brock Rumlow, the immigration agent assigned to Y/N’s case, thought it was an excellent idea. Bucky could only sit and shake his head in frustration. She’d demanded he arrange for a car to drive them to Brooklyn, claiming that the thought of taking the train made her nauseous, and she’d insisted he book her into one of the most expensive hotels in the area. Everything about this trip was stressing him out. 

“Are we ever going to get there?” Y/N huffed. It was the first thing she’d said to him in half an hour.

Bucky checked his watch. “Soon,” he replied. “Traffic is always a bitch getting out of the city.”

She stared out the window for a few seconds, then she slowly turned to Bucky. “James, are you ready for this?” she asked.

“No, not even a little,” he answered. “And stop calling me James. It’s Bucky. Nobody calls me James, nobody. My friends won’t buy it if my fiancee is calling me by my first name.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You know, telling my friends, all the people I care about, that I’m marrying a woman I’ve claimed to absolutely loathe is going to be a nightmare. Steve will have a heyday with that one.”

“Who’s Steve again?” she mumbled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “My best friend, Y/N. The man is like a brother to me. We grew up together, neighbors all of our lives, went to school together. You need to remember this stuff. It’s important.”

“I know, I know,” she groaned. “Sorry.”

The driver hit the blinker, signaling the turn into Bucky’s Brooklyn neighborhood. He sat up straighter, trying to prepare himself for what was to come. He suspected it was going to be a lot like a trip to Hell. 

* * *

You were grateful Bucky didn’t see you cringe when he said he hated you. Sorry, loathed you. It stung, stung more than you’d ever imagined it could. You knew that a lot of people felt that way about you; you didn’t get where you were in a corporation like Stark Industries by being nice, but you’d hoped that Bucky wasn’t one of them, hoped that after three years working together he’d developed just the tiniest bit of affection for you. Obviously not.

You stared out the window, hands clenched in your lap, your knuckles white, your breathing shallow, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, praying you wouldn’t cry. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t notice, that he wouldn’t realize that not only had he just ripped your heart in two, but that you were terrified to meet the people closest to him as well. You hadn’t slept since Tuesday, not since the engagement, and the decision to go to Brooklyn with Bucky had been made. You’d done nothing but pace your apartment every night, terrified about what was to come. You were going to meet the “family” of the man you were forcing to marry you. You couldn’t imagine a worse scenario. Meeting Steve, the man Bucky considered a brother, had your nerves on edge. You were already wary of him, just from listening to Bucky’s stories about him. He was going to be particularly hard to win over.

The car pulled to a stop outside of a large, sprawling home set back from the street, a large tree in the front yard, beautiful green grass, and brickwork adorning the front. Standing on the front steps was a tall, blonde, muscular, giant of a man, a grin on his face. He waved and yelled over his shoulder through the open door, before starting down the steps.

You’d seen pictures of Steve; Bucky had several photos scattered across his desk, but the photos didn’t do the man justice. He was about the same height as Bucky, and just as attractive, though he was more stop traffic attractive while Bucky was light up a room attractive. Despite not being actual blood brothers, they were shockingly similar, not necessarily when it came to their looks, but there seemed to be a singularity in the way they moved, the way they held themselves. Steve smiled as soon as he saw Bucky, closing the distance between them in just two steps, his hand outstretched. They shook hands, brief and quick, before Steve gave a hard tug and pulled Bucky into a hug. You stared awkwardly at a spot over Bucky’s shoulder, waiting for the show of affection to end.

When the two men finally broke apart, Steve stepped to the side and eyed you up and down, an unfriendly smirk on his face. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Steve, this is Y/N,” he said.

Steve’s best friend seemed to be analyzing you, his gaze critical, assessing you in a way that made you feel inadequate. His mouth tilted up in an evil grin. “So, tell me, do you prefer to be called Y/N or Satan’s mistress? Because I’ve heard you referred to as both.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks, but before you could answer, Bucky stepped between you.

“Where’s Peggy?” he asked, ignoring Steve’s previous comment.

“Inside,” Steve responded. “Grab your bags and let’s go.”

Bucky was different here, more laid back, calmer, maybe even happier. You’d noticed it the second he had stepped out of the car. You didn’t think you’d seen him smile more than ten or twenty times in the three years you’d known him, but since you’d pulled to a stop in front of his friend’s house, he couldn’t seem to stop. You liked it, liked the way his whole face lit up, the way his blue eyes sparkled, how he threw his head back and laughed with Steve as they waited for the driver to open the trunk.

Bucky dragged his bags from the trunk, conveniently forgetting to grab yours. You leaned over the trunk to pull them from the back of the car, catching Bucky’s smirk as you struggled with the rolling suitcase and two overnight cases. You heard him mutter something to Steve about you being a feminist when his friend suggested he help you.

You were nearly to the door when the sound of a lot of voices drifted over the front lawn. Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at Steve, his mouth pinched in anger.

“What the hell is this?” he growled.

“We invited a few people over for a welcome home party,” his friend shrugged.

“A few,” Bucky snapped. “This looks like the entire neighborhood.”

“If you’re unhappy about it, talk to Peggy,” Steve said, climbing the stairs. “It was her idea.” He smiled over his shoulder at Bucky and disappeared into the house, blending in with the crowds of people.

You spun in a circle, taking in the houses and neighborhood around you. You grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could climb the stairs and leave you behind. “Is this the neighborhood you grew up in, Ja-, I mean Bucky?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “That’s my parent’s house right there.” He pointed to the house right next door, a beautiful two story home with large windows and beautiful lines, curtains drawn over every window.

“This isn’t some modest neighborhood, is it?” you hissed. “Your family has money, more than you’ve let on. Are you rich or something?”

“I’m not rich,” Bucky muttered. “My parents are - were - pretty well-off. My father owned a successful plumbing business. I chose to do something else.” He pointed to the open door at the top of the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.”

You followed him into the house, curious as to what else Bucky might be hiding. There was so much more to Bucky than you had ever imagined.

* * *

Leave it to Peggy and Steve to plan some huge ordeal for his homecoming. Bucky was pretty sure his entire graduating high school class was there, along with all of his childhood friends. It reminded Bucky of why he liked living in Manhattan so much, he could walk down the street and no one recognized him.

They dumped their bags by the front door, then Bucky reluctantly put his hand on Y/N’s back to guide her through the throng of people. Peggy was in the kitchen, as was Steve. She was fussing over the food and Steve was yanking a beer out of the fridge. His other friends were there, too - the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda, as well as Clint and Sam. His friends, his family, the people who had stuck by him through thick and thin.

Peggy’s face lit up as soon as Bucky stepped into the kitchen, and damn it if his heart didn’t leap a little at seeing her. She was a sight for sore eyes, and if Steve hadn’t snatched her up first, he might be living a very different life. But, she’d only had eyes for Steve; they’d been dating since their junior year of college and attached at the hip since day one. They were so disgustingly in love that Peggy was giving up her life back in England to move to the states to be his wife.

The gorgeous brunette dropped the box of crackers in her hand to the counter and threw herself at Bucky. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, took his face in her hands, and forced him to bend down so she could look in his eyes.

“Let me look at you,” she said, staring intently. “You’re too skinny.”

“I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled.

Peggy laughed and hugged him one more time before stepping to the side, allowing first Clint and Sam to descend on him, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back, then Pietro and Wanda were on him, hugging him, a tear sliding down Wanda’s cheek. Bucky brushed it away and kissed her on the cheek. God, he’d missed his friends.

He introduced Y/N to everyone, making sure to emphasize the fact that she was his girlfriend. To everyone’s credit, they kept their opinions to themselves. After a few minutes, Peggy whisked Y/N away to “introduce to everyone.” More like grill her for information.

“So, you’re dating your boss?” Steve asked as soon as Peggy and Y/N were out of earshot.

“Yes,” Bucky sighed.

“I never pictured you as someone who would sleep his way to the top, Buck,” Sam smirked.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he protested.

“Well, that’s what it looks like,” Steve interjected. “Last time I talked to you, you hated that woman. Now she’s your girlfriend?”

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s more than my girlfriend,” he snapped. “She’s my fiancee.” He turned and stalked out of the kitchen, his friends hot on his heels, their questions filling his ears.

He found Peggy and Y/N outside in the backyard, with, of all people, the girl he’d dated all through high school, Natasha, the girl who’d refused to marry him. This day just kept getting better and better.

Bucky stalked past them, found an empty space among the crowd, and whistled, loud enough to draw the people inside out to the large porch.

“Hey everybody,” he shouted. “Thank you for coming. It was certainly a surprise to come home and find all of you here. And since there are so many of my good friends here, I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce all of you to my fiancee.” He held his hand out to Y/N, whose face had frozen in shock. “Everybody, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is well, everybody.”

Applause broke out as she took Bucky’s hand and stood next to him. She squeezed his fingers, yanking on his arm until he bent down.

“I thought we were waiting to tell everyone, sweetheart,” she hissed.

“Change of plans,” he answered, squeezing back. “Just roll with it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she plastered the smile back on her face. Over her shoulder, Bucky could see his friends standing in a group just inside the French doors leading into the dining room. A mass of people surged forward, congratulations and questions coming from every angle. He and Y/N managed to deflect the most personal of them, somehow sticking to the story they’d concocted back in Manhattan. Once the excitement died down, he heard Clint’s voice over the crowd.

“Kiss her!” he hooted.

Bucky attempted to brush off the suggestion, but within seconds, Clint had everyone chanting “kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.”

Y/N was staring at the ground, shaking her head, and Bucky was shooting “shut up” glares at Clint, but he wouldn’t stop. So, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, hoping that would appease the masses.

But it didn’t, instead Steve yelled, “Give her a real kiss,” followed by a loud laugh. Bucky glanced that way; Steve was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, obviously waiting to see what he would do.

Bucky nodded and pulled Y/N into my arms, whispering an apology in her ear before ducking his head to catch her lips in his. She leaned into him, one arm wrapping around him, her hand splayed across his back. Her lips were soft and before he could stop himself, his tongue slipped from his mouth and drifted over them. She tasted like mint and white wine. Her mouth fell open just a tiny bit, inviting me in. Unexpectedly, the kiss deepened, both of them leaning into each other, hands on warm skin, everything narrowing to just the two of them.

“Congratulations, Buck.” Steve slapped him on the shoulder, startling him, interrupting the kiss. “Y/N, welcome to our little makeshift family.”

Y/N smiled graciously at Bucky’s best friend, but he only had eyes for her. That kiss, it had been unexpected, and quite frankly, amazing. He found himself wishing it could have lasted longer.

What the hell did that mean?

* * *

“What do you mean, you canceled the hotel?” Bucky asked, fists clenched at his side, brow furrowed in irritation.

“You’re family, Bucky, you’re not staying at some bloody hotel.” Peggy’s tone was firm. “You’re staying here. We have more than enough room.” She tossed the blankets in her hands onto the bed, kissed Bucky on the cheek, and gave you a one armed hug. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.” The door clicked closed behind her.

You and Bucky stood awkwardly in the center of the room, not looking at each other. You brushed your fingers over your lips, reminiscing about the kiss you’d shared.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Bucky said, grabbing a pillow and some blankets off the bed and dropping them to the floor before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom.

You sat on the end of the bed, your mind reeling. So much had happened in the last twelve hours and you needed a second to process all of it. Meeting Bucky’s friends, the realization that he was more of a mystery than you’d ever imagined, that kiss. It was overwhelming. You took a swallow from the glass of wine you still had in your hand.

The bathroom door opened and Bucky came out, wearing a pair of flannel pants and a gray v-neck t-shirt. You almost choked, the sight of him in “street clothes” instead of his usual suit taking you by surprise. He gave you a lopsided grin before dropping to the floor and spreading the blankets out.

“You know, James, sorry, I mean Bucky, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for all of this,” you murmured.

“No, you haven’t,” he replied, a slight smile on his face. “You know what else you haven’t done?”

You shook your head, sipping from your wine glass.

“Proposed,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You nearly choked on your wine, spitting it back into the glass. “What?” you sputtered.

“I never got a proposal,” Bucky smirked. “I’m kind of disappointed.”

You set the glass on the edge of the table and before you could talk yourself out of it, dropped to your knees beside him. You grabbed his hand in both of yours and stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, plastering what you hoped was a flirty smile on your face.

“James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?” you breathed.

Something changed in the room in that moment, all the playfulness seemed to dissipate and an electric current seemed to flow between the two of you. Bucky tilted his head toward yours, his breath mingling with yours, the smell of soap and mint toothpaste washing over you.

“Yes, Y/N, I’ll marry you,” he whispered.

Bucky moved closer and you knew he was going to kiss you again, except this time there wouldn’t be a crowd of people you didn’t know cheering you on while his best friends judged you from afar. This time, it was just the two of you. His hand was on your thigh and yours was on his arm. You took a deep breath, anticipating what was to come.

The knock on the door was sharp and loud. “Bucky!” Steve yelled through the closed door. “You got a minute?”

Bucky’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I should see what he wants.” He shoved himself to his feet and vanished out the door.

“No problem,” you mumbled, sliding to the floor, staring after him. “No problem at all.”


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not easy being engaged to a perfect stranger.

“Hey,” Steve smiled as Bucky stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind himself. “You got a minute?”

Bucky didn’t want to be on this side of the door, talking to his best friend, he wanted to be in the bedroom with Y/N, exploring what was suddenly happening between the two of them. He couldn’t really tell Steve that though, seeing as how he thought he and Y/N were in a real relationship.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and staring longingly at the door. “What’s up?”

“Let’s go grab a beer,” Steve replied, turning and heading down the hall, obviously expecting Bucky to follow.

He took one more look at the door, then he trailed after Steve. They made a detour through the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge before heading outside and taking a seat at the patio table outside the dining room doors. He handed one of the beers to Bucky, popped open his, then leaned back in his seat.

“I’ve been elected to talk to you,” he said.

Bucky was immediately on edge. The last time Steve had said something like that, it was because Bucky’s father had asked him to convince Bucky to stay in Brooklyn and go to work for the plumbing company, to forego his dream of doing something bigger and better than the family business, his dream of making a name for himself. That night had ended with Peggy having to break up a fist fight between them and Bucky slinking away in the middle of the night. It had nearly ended their friendship.

Steve must have noticed the change in Bucky’s demeanor, because he laughed quietly. “I won’t throw any punches this time, I swear.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “First of all, let me start by saying that I’m doing this because you’re my friend, my brother, and I care about you.”

“Okay,” Bucky mumbled, “duly noted.”

“I - we, well, all of us, think this marriage is a terrible idea.” Steve fiddled with his bottle of beer, picking at the label with his thumbnail. “I mean, Jesus, Buck, a week ago you despised this woman, and now you’re marrying her?”

“That was all a cover,” Bucky shook his head. “We were keeping things quiet, on the down low, because I’m her assistant. It wouldn’t have looked right. After I asked her to marry me, that changed.”

“So, what, you guys have been dating all along?” Steve asked.

“For six months,” Bucky explained, sticking to the story he and Y/N had come up with. “We started dating, fell in love, and I asked her to marry me.”

“And you couldn’t tell me? I’m your best friend.” 

Steve looked hurt, something Bucky hadn’t expected. This was getting more and more complicated with every minute that passed. It made him want to punch a hole through the nearest wall. He’d never lied to Steve, ever, and he didn’t like doing it now.

“We didn’t tell anybody, Steve,” Bucky sighed, the lie bitter on his tongue. “Not until just this week.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you or anything. I’d just gotten so used to lying to everyone about our relationship that it came naturally. And besides, I did hate her, once. But she isn’t who I thought she was.” Surprisingly, that statement rang true in his ears.

“I just don’t want you to make a mistake, one you’ll regret forever.” Steve cleared his throat. “She’s not pregnant or something, is she?”

“Jesus, Steve, no,” Bucky shook his head. “She’s not pregnant. Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“Okay, okay,” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry. But, seriously, I’m just looking out for you, man. You’re my best friend.”

“I know, Steve,” Bucky nodded. “I just...I know what I’m doing, okay? Trust me.”

“Alright, Buck, alright,” Steve said. “I’ll trust your judgment on this one. But if you need to talk -”

“- you’re around,” Bucky finished. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Can I ask you another question?” Steve murmured after a few minutes of silence.

“Man, you are annoying, you know that right?” Bucky chuckled. “Alright, go ahead.”

“Why aren’t you staying in your parents’ house?” he asked, pointing at the house next door.

“Really annoying,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” Steve laughed. “But seriously, why? You booked a hotel instead of staying in a perfectly good house that you  _ own _ . And when the hotel was canceled by my lovely fiancee, you’re perfectly fine sleeping in one of our spare rooms, while there’s a huge, empty house right next door. Shit, you pay exorbitant rent in Manhattan when you could live there rent free and commute. I don’t understand.”

“It’s...it’s hard to explain,” Bucky said. “I...we...left things on a bad note. My dad was pissed at me, my mom was pissed at me, then I lost them, and I can’t go back and change any of that. Walking in that house, it’s...it brings back too many memories. Good and bad. I’m not sure if I’m ready to face that demon yet.”

“Makes sense,” Steve nodded. He took a long swallow of his beer. “You’re still a jerk, though.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a punk, so we’re even,” Bucky grumbled.

They sat and talked for a while after that, catching up in a way they hadn’t had a chance to do in quite some time. It felt good to reconnect with his best friend. It was after midnight before he returned to the room and, of course, Y/N was asleep. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, fascinated by how different she looked when she slept - the angry scowl so prominent on her face no longer visible, the worry lines in her forehead smoothed out. She actually looked sweet and almost innocent, a side of her Bucky had never seen, not until today anyway.

Not for the first time, he wondered what had happened in her life to turn her into the cold-hearted bitch so many people thought she was. He’d always thought he knew Y/N better than anyone, after all, they spent more time together than an actual married couple, but in the last twenty-four hours, he’d seen a side of her he hadn’t known existed. He found himself wanting to learn more.

* * *

The sound of a ringing phone startled you, yanking you from sleep. You sat up, disoriented and lost, not sure where you were. You looked around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

“Y/N, your phone,” you heard Bucky mumble from somewhere on the floor.

You tumbled from the bed, still half asleep, knocking pillows and clothes to the floor as you struggled to find it. “Shit,” you whispered. “Where the hell is it?”

“Purse, front pocket.” Bucky’s muffled voice came from somewhere on your left.

Of course he knew where it was. He was the one who kept you organized and together; you probably wouldn’t be able to find your way out of a wet paper bag without him. You grabbed your purse and pulled the phone free.

“Hello? Hello?” You were shouting, as if that would somehow help the situation. “Bruce, is that you?”

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled. A pillow flew past your head and hit the wall behind you.

“Okay, okay,” you grumbled, grabbing your robe from the back of the chair and pulling it on as you left the room. You glanced at Bucky as you stepped out; he had a pillow and blanket over his head.

You wandered through the house, not quite sure where you were going, your cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Bruce babble incessantly about some issue you would normally pawn off on Bucky. But he was sleeping and Bruce was your responsibility, so you tried to be attentive. You finally found a door that led outside, putting you on the patio leading to the huge backyard. You could just glimpse the beach from where you were standing. You pulled the robe tighter around yourself, shivering in the cool morning air, and sat down on a wooden bench beneath a large tree.

Bruce talked your ear off for nearly fifteen minutes, really just wanting reassurance that you were going to be moving forward with his plans, that everything would be fine, that you had it handled. By the time you got him off the phone, you were trembling from the cold and praying for a hot cup of coffee. You were halfway across the yard, anxious to get back inside, when a giant ball of white fur appeared out of nowhere, jumping on your legs, and knocking you to the ground.

You sat up, only to have a little white puffball land in your lap and incessantly lick your face. You scooped up the creature and held it away from you, trying to get a good luck at what was assaulting you. It was a puppy, a very cute, pure white, adorable puppy. You glanced around the yard, wondering where he had come from; you hadn’t noticed him last night.

You were struggling to your feet, dog in your arms, when the door opened and Bucky strode out. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. He was still wearing the flannel pajama pants, but he’d thrown on a gray hooded sweatshirt and a pair of slip on shoes. His hair was sleep tousled, not the normal controlled mane you were used to seeing, and damn it if it didn’t look sexy as hell. He had a smirk on his face, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

“What are you doing?” he mused.

“I...I was...I was on the phone...and then he came out of nowhere and he...he  _ jumped _ me…” you stammered.

Bucky plucked the dog from your arms and held him over his head, a smile spreading across his face. “And who is this?” he cooed, his voice changing pitch and slipping into what could only be described as baby talk. “Aren’t you just a little cutie? Where did you come from?”

“That’s Kevin,” Peggy laughed from behind Bucky. “Steve picked him up a few days ago. He was in his kennel last night during the party because he’s still being trained. “Cute, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” Bucky crooned. “He’s just the cutest little guy ever, aren’t you?” The dog licked eagerly at his face, drawing a laugh from both he and Peggy.

Peggy rubbed a hand over the puppy’s back and smiled up at Bucky. “You guys should come inside. I made coffee. And Y/N, you need to get ready. I have plans for you and I today.” She took the dog from Bucky and went back inside.

“Plans? What kind of plans?” you inquiring, staring in horror after Peggy. “I can’t spend the day with Steve’s girlfriend.”

“Fiancee,” Bucky corrected. “And, yes you can.” He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at Peggy through the kitchen window. He reached out, slipped his arm around your waist, and pulled you into his arms. “Now, come here, she’s watching.” He hugged you, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling deeply. God, he smelled so good, like sandalwood and books. His hands felt warm and heavy on your waist, comforting. You wanted to lean into him and let him hold you all day. Until his hands slid down your waist and he patted your ass, chuckling with glee.

“Get your hand off my ass, Barnes,” you mumbled, the moment now gone. You tried to back out of his embrace, but he held tight.

“Hey,” he whispered.

You looked up at him and to your surprise, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. A smile spread across his face and for the first time since this entire sham engagement had started, you thought maybe this might actually work out.

“Peggy’s still watching us,” he said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, released you, and went inside.

Disappointment flooded you. “Okay, maybe not,” you corrected yourself.

* * *

Y/N had left with Peggy two hours earlier and Steve had gone down to the university he taught at to grab some papers he needed to grade, leaving Bucky to fend for himself. He’d been sitting on the patio, staring at his parents’ house for an hour, spinning the house key around and around on the table. Kevin was lying by his feet, staring up at him in adoration.

“Come on, Kevin,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

The little white ball of fur happily followed him across the yard and through the gate that connected the two backyards. When Steve and Bucky were about ten-years-old, their parents had installed the gate after growing tired of the two boys constantly ringing each other’s doorbells. They decided life would be much easier if they had direct access to each other. As far as Bucky was concerned, it was one of the best decisions they’d ever made. He closed the gate behind himself, noting that the backyard grass and trees were neatly trimmed, something he was sure was Steve’s doing. He’d have to thank him later.

Bucky stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the back door that led into the kitchen, the key clutched so tightly in his hand it was digging painfully into his palm. He trudged up the stairs, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. It was dark inside, closed off, every curtain and blind in the house drawn. Almost all of the furniture in the house was covered with sheets or tarps, giving it an even more closed off feel, and a light layer of dust covered everything.

Kevin whined and moved closer to him, so Bucky reached down and scooped up the puppy, tucking him under his arm, holding him like a football. “Chicken,” he mumbled.

He made his way through the house, peering into each of the rooms as he passed them. At the top of the stairs, he turned right into his father’s office. In the middle of the large desk at the back of the room was a cream colored envelope, his name scrolled across the front in his father’s sloppy handwriting. His mom always used to tease him that he should be a doctor with his messy penmanship. Bucky set Kevin on the floor, chuckling as he promptly ran to the couch against the wall, jumped on it, turned around three times, and laid down. Bucky stopped to scratch behind the dog’s ears before slipping into the chair behind the desk and staring at the envelope.

It was exactly where he’d left it the day of his father’s funeral, the last time he’d been home. He’d been going through his father’s papers in his office, rifling through the drawers, when he’d found the envelope in the top middle drawer, his full name - James Buchanan Barnes - scrawled across it. He hadn’t had the guts to open it, so he’d laid it on the desk and left.

Bucky picked up the letter, blew the dust off of it, flipped it over, and opened it. Inside was a single piece of paper, which he pulled free and laid on the desk.

_ Bucky - _

_ I know things haven’t been good between you and I, son, and for that, I’m sorry. Everyday your mother was alive she told me I needed to fix what I broke, and she wasn’t talking about that drawer in the kitchen. I was too stubborn to admit that I was wrong and now, I’m too ashamed of the way I acted to pick up the phone and call you. _

_ You’re your own man, James, a man I’m proud of. I hope someday we can get back to the way things were. _

_ Dad _

The letter was dated two days before he’d died. Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, swiping at the tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding. Even if his dad had mailed the letter, he wouldn’t have gotten it before he had his heart attack. Everyday Bucky regretted not coming home and hashing things out with his parents, fixing what he broke, like his dad said. And now, he never could.

He wondered what his parents would think of his engagement. His mother would have been thrilled, of course, and his dad, well Dad probably would have started asking him if that meant he was going to come home to Brooklyn and settle down. At least they wouldn’t be around for the divorce and the aftermath. It would have broken his mother’s heart.

Bucky tucked the letter back in the envelope, folded it in half, and shoved it in his back pocket. He pushed away from the desk, crossed the room to the couch, and picked up Kevin. He yanked off the sheet covering the couch and tossed it aside, then he sat down, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. He was asleep within a few minutes.

He had no idea how long he was asleep, but the next thing he knew, Steve was nudging him with the toe of his Converse.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up,” he chuckled.

“What time is it?” Bucky yawned, pushing himself upright.

“Little after four,” Steve answered. “Jesus, Buck, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. This was the last place I expected to find you.”

“How did you find me?” Bucky mumbled.

“Kevin was barking at the back door,” Steve laughed. “He ratted you out.” He dropped to the couch beside his friend. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky mumbled. “Or I will be. Anyway, what’s up? Why were you looking for me?”

“You should go get cleaned up,” Steve said. “We’re heading over to Clint’s bar for drinks.”

“Not interested,” he groaned, his head falling to the back of the couch.

“So, you’re just going to leave Y/N to the mercy of your friends?” Steve grinned. “Nice.”

“Where is Y/N?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Maybe she’s with Peggy? They seemed to be getting along well when they got back.”

Bucky staggered to his feet. “I should probably go find her. See if I can’t prepare her for what’s to come.”

Y/N wasn’t downstairs, and Peggy claimed to have not seen her for at least a half an hour, so he sprinted up the stairs. He was sure he would find her in the room they’d been forced to share, maybe trying to take a nap or something, but she wasn’t there. He even stepped outside to check the small balcony, but she wasn’t there either. He stepped back inside and ran right into Y/N, naked and soaking wet.

“Jesus Christ,” he sputtered.

“What the hell?” she gasped, leaning into him.

Bucky was caught off guard, his feet tangling with hers. They started to fall and without thinking, he folded his arms around her, his hands on her bare skin. They hit the ground, her body sprawled across his, her breasts pressed to his chest, her damp hair falling against his face. His head bounced painfully off the hardwood floor.

“Fuck me,” he groaned. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

“Inappropriate, James,” Y/N scolded as she hurriedly climbed off of him and scrambled to grab a blanket from the bed. She wrapped it around herself, then threw herself face down on the bed.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbled as he struggled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured. “There were, uh, no towels in the bathroom.” She scrubbed a hand over her face.

He opened the cabinet beside the bathroom door. “There you go,” he said. “Nice tattoo, by the way.” He stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and leaned his head against it, trying to catch his breath. His hands tingled from touching her, itching to do it again. What the hell was wrong with him? This was a business agreement and nothing more. He wasn’t supposed to want anything personal or intimate from Y/N, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He hated her.

So, why was he standing there with his cock straining against his jeans, desperately trying to keep himself from going back in that bedroom and taking full advantage of that bed?

* * *

You were relieved when the evening finally came to an end. Hanging out with Bucky’s group of friends was slightly overwhelming; seven people you didn’t know judging your every move was not your idea of fun.

Though, it hadn’t been quite as bad as you’d thought it would be, not at first anyway. Clint’s bar, The Nest, was beautiful, tastefully decorated, and surprisingly inviting. Everyone tried to include you in their conversations, tried to make you feel like a part of the group, and you appreciated it. Unfortunately, you were still mortified at what had happened earlier, in the bedroom, with Bucky, and you were completely confused as to how it had made you feel; your thoughts kept drifting to what had happened.

You’d always been attracted to Bucky, quite frankly you couldn’t imagine any woman not being attracted to him. But nothing had prepared you for the way your stomach had clenched when his hands had skimmed your bare skin, or the way you’d literally ached for him to slide his hand between your legs as you’d laid sprawled on top of him. He’d made a beeline for the bathroom the moment you’d extricated yourself, running away from you as fast as possible, leaving you groaning quietly to yourself and pressing your thighs together. You’d dressed quickly and hurried downstairs before you had to face him alone.

The drive to the bar was awkward to say the least. You and Bucky couldn’t even look at each other, too embarrassed to talk or act like two people in love. You’d had to force yourself to play along with Bucky once you were at the bar, holding his hand, laughing at his jokes, and trying to act like a woman in love. It wasn’t that hard.

The evening had taken a downturn when Natasha arrived. She seemed nice enough, but she barely acknowledged you, instead heading directly for Bucky, pulling him aside, demanding his attention for more than an hour. It wasn’t until Peggy stepped in and dragged Bucky away that he returned to your side. By then, you were ready to leave. You knew everything about Natasha and Bucky, right down to his rejected marriage proposal, thanks to Peggy. Bucky was probably still in love with her, and you had to remind yourself that was okay, because he didn’t really love you, that wasn’t part of the deal.

You finally made it back to Steve and Peggy’s around midnight. You weren’t overly anxious to spend time alone with Bucky, so you sought out Peggy, who was in the kitchen, finalizing the menu for the engagement party. You offered your help, but she shrugged it off.

“You’ve had a long day, Y/N,” she smiled. “And you’ve barely seen Bucky at all. I’m afraid his friends monopolized his time at the bar; we haven’t seen him in so long and we missed him.”

You felt a twinge of guilt at that; you’d forced Bucky to miss a lot of weekends home by demanding he work. You really were a bitch.

“Go.” Peggy gave you a gentle push toward the door, overriding your protests. “Go relax with Bucky.”

You found him sitting on the balcony of the bedroom you were sharing, leaning back in a chair, his feet propped on the railing. He glanced at you when you stepped outside and perched on the edge of one of the chairs, giving you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you whispered. “That was fun tonight, huh?” You folded your hands in your lap and stared into the dark night. You waited a few minutes, curious, hoping he would open up to you. But he didn’t, not that you were surprised. “So, you and Natasha?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky retorted. “That topic is not on the table. You don’t want to share, neither do I.”

“What do you mean, I don’t want to share?” you admonished. “You know a lot about me.”

“I know superficial shit about you,” he corrected. “Nothing that means anything. You’re going to be my wife and the only thing I know about you is what kind of toothpaste you use and how many hours you sleep a night. Oh, and you have a bunch of birds tattooed on your side.”

He was right. You didn’t let people in, you never had. But now, you were going to marry this man and he knew next to nothing about you. Maybe it was time to change that. You took a deep breath and started speaking.

“I don’t like flowers in the house, because they remind me of funerals. I don’t like mirrors because they show us our flaws, show us how ugly we can be. I read Pride and Prejudice every year at Christmas and when Gilmore called me a poisonous bitch, I went to the bathroom and cried.” You laughed, unsure of whether or not you should continue, pausing for a heartbeat, contemplating if you wanted to tell him the significance of the tattoo. You’d come this far, might as well go all the way. You cleared your throat. “As for the tattoo, well, the birds are swallows. I got it after my parents died. I was sixteen, alone and scared. I got it because it signified a new beginning. From that point on, I knew I couldn’t be weak, I couldn’t let anybody walk all over me. Ever. The swallows remind me of that turning point in my life.”

You swallowed, forcing down the sob you felt building in your throat. You were blinking rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. You’d opened up to Bucky and now, you were going to cry. Nothing like laying all your vulnerabilities out in one fell swoop. You pushed yourself to your feet and ducked back inside, throwing yourself on the bed, curling into a fetal position. You couldn’t believe how difficult it had been to open up to Bucky, how much saying all of that had made you hurt. You closed your eyes and prayed he would just stay outside and leave you to cry in peace.

You didn’t hear him come inside, he was surprisingly quiet for his size; you didn’t even know he was there until you felt the bed move and heat surrounded you. He engulfed you, wrapping himself around you, his legs tangled with yours, one arm sliding under you and rolling you toward him, pulling you against his chest, hugging you close.

“You’re a beautiful woman, you know that, right?” he whispered.

You shook your head, Bucky’s soft cotton shirt rubbing against your cheek. He was just saying that to make you feel better.

“It’s the truth.” His long fingers brushed your hair from your face. “Now, go to sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Just before you dozed off, still in Bucky’s arms, you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, then he pulled you closer, a deep sigh leaving him.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up between you and Bucky.

The knock at the door was sharp and insistent, followed seconds later by Peggy’s voice.

“Bucky? Y/N? Are you decent in there?” she yelled through the door.

You opened your eyes and pushed yourself up on your elbows. You were alone in the bed, which had not been the case a mere six or seven hours ago. You crawled to the end of the bed and peered over the edge. Bucky was asleep on the floor.

“Bucky? Y/N?” Peggy called again, followed by another knock on the door.

You grabbed a pillow and threw it as hard as you could at Bucky, hitting him square in the face. He jumped and shot up, confused, his brow furrowed in irritation.

“What the hell?” he grumbled, pushing his hair off of his face.

“Peggy,” you whispered, pointing at the door.

Bucky looked toward the door, still confused, but another knock had him shoving the blanket off of his legs and tossing it to you, then he was scrambling to his feet and throwing himself across the bed. He crawled up beside you, yelling “just a minute” as he tried to make it look like he had been in the bed with you all along, yanking the covers over his lap and adjusting the pillows behind him.

You slid over next to him and pulled his arm around your waist. You leaned against him, trying to wedge yourself right up against him. He tried to shift his hips away from you, but he wasn’t quick enough. You felt the hard line of his erection pressing into your back.

“Seriously?” you snapped, shooting a glare at him over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, it’s morning.” He rolled his eyes, tightened his grip on you and pulled you close.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened and both Steve and Peggy came in, Peggy with a plate piled high with what looked like cinnamon rolls and Steve with two cups of coffee, which he set on the table beside you.

“Breakfast couldn’t wait until we got out of bed?” Bucky grumbled.

“Peggy wants to talk to you,” Steve shrugged.

“I have a proposition for you,” Peggy said. “We - Steve and I - want you to share our engagement party tonight with us.”

“Wh-what?” you sputtered.

“We couldn’t do that,” Bucky protested. “That’s your party, you’ve been planning it for weeks. We don’t want to intrude.”

Steve was shaking his head. “It’s not an intrusion. We’d like nothing more than to share that day with you. You’re my best friend, Buck, it’d be an honor to share something like this with you. Besides, everyone will be here, so why wait? It’s perfect.”

“We can celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in everyone’s lives,” Peggy added. “Think about it, please?”

Bucky grunted something unintelligible and nodded. The smile on Peggy’s face widened and she clapped her hands together.

“You two talk about it, tell us what you decide,” she said. “I promise it will be amazing and wonderful and -”

Steve cut her off with a hand on her arm, pulling her towards the door. “Let’s give them some time to discuss it,” he said, smiling at his fiancee.

Bucky sat up the second the door closed, his arms falling away from you, his head in his hands. “Oh my God, what are we thinking? Steve and Peggy are going out of their way to be supportive of my marriage to a woman I professed to hate just a week ago, of a marriage that is totally for nefarious and underhanded reasons. God, I feel like shit for putting them through this. Thank God my parents aren’t alive to see this bullshit.”

You rose up on your knees and put your hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “Hey, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this. Two years will fly by. Then, we get the quickie divorce and you can move on. Everyone will understand. All you have to do is blame it on me; everyone who has ever met me will understand.” You giggled nervously.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “Two years. Two years is no big deal. “ He threw the blankets off and shoved himself to his feet, one hand pushing through his hair, a nervous habit he had that you’d just recently noticed. “God, I can’t wait until this is over.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, yanked a pillow over your face, and screamed into it. You were falling for Bucky, you could feel it in your bones, and no matter what you did or how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop it. You’d always sworn to yourself you wouldn’t fall for anyone, wouldn’t let anybody in, because that way, you couldn’t get hurt. But, here you were, head over heels. And it was painfully obvious he didn’t feel the same way about you. How were you supposed to be married to him for two years and then let him go?

You felt your chest tightening, your heart pounding, and your hands shaking. You needed fresh air or something. Immediately. You threw on some clothes and hurried out the door.

You ended up in the backyard, sitting on the same bench you’d sat on the day before. After a few minutes, a tiny nose nudged your leg and you looked down to see Kevin at your feet. You picked him up and set him in your lap, running your hands over his soft fur.

“You a dog person?” Steve asked. You looked up to see him leaning against the porch railing.

“They’re okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “I prefer cats.”

“Bucky’s a cat person, too,” Steve said, walking down the steps. “But you probably knew that.”

“Um, yeah,” you nodded. “I knew that.” Except you hadn’t known that.

“Why don’t you come help me?” He tipped his head toward the garage attached to the back of the house. “We can get to know each other better.” He glanced at the dog. “Kevin can come, too.”

You followed Steve into the spacious garage, the dog in your arms. “What are you doing?”

“ _We’re_ changing the oil in my motorcycle,” he laughed.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about motorcycles. Or cars for that matter,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I’ll watch.”

“I don’t think so, princess,” Steve said, plucking Kevin out of your arms and setting him on the floor. “Come here.”

It wasn’t long before you were kneeling on the garage floor beside Steve’s motorcycle, grease all your hands and jeans, giggling so hard your stomach hurt. Steve was regaling you with stories of his and Bucky’s childhood, in particular, all the trouble they’d managed to get themselves in over the years.

“Y/N?”

You peered around Steve’s motorcycle to see Bucky standing beside Steve, a hesitant smile on his face. “James! Hi!”

“James?” Steve looked confused.

“Um, inside joke,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, helping Steve, learning about motorcycles,” you shrugged. “He said you have one?”

Bucky nodded, shooting a dirty look at his best friend. “I do have one. It’s in my parents’ garage.”

“You never mentioned it,” you said. “Maybe you could -”

“Peggy was looking for you,” he interrupted, then turned to Steve. “And she told me she has errands for you to run and I have to go with you. So, here I am.”

“Give me ten minutes,” Steve said. “I’ll meet you out front.”

“I should probably get cleaned up,” you mumbled. “See what Peggy wants.”

You sprinted from the garage, into the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. You grabbed some clean clothes, ducked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind yourself. It only took you a few minutes to clean off the grease and change your clothes. When you opened the bathroom door, Bucky was standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You ran out of here so quick this morning -”

“Why’d you sleep on the floor last night?” you blurted. God, you hadn’t intended to ask him that.

He looked a bit taken aback by your question. He ran a hand through his hair and once again, you wondered what it would feel like between your fingers, against your skin. Heat flooded you at the thought.

Bucky blew out a breath before he spoke. “I guess I didn’t want to take advantage. You were upset and I just wanted to make you feel better. But then I started to wonder if you’d be pissed when you woke up.” He laughed nervously. “I know you, Y/N. You don’t do vulnerability well. And I was afraid that you would think that I’d only crawled into bed with you for some underhanded reason. I thought it would be safer for me if I was far away from you when you woke up.”

“I wasn’t angry,” you protested.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really,” he shrugged. “I hope you know that I was only trying to help.”

You dragged in a deep breath, rose up on your toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your cheek resting against his. Your lips slid down his jaw and all it took was Bucky turning his head just an inch and his lips were on yours, kissing you gently.

* * *

She pushed herself up, into the kiss, her hands flat against his stomach, his arms sliding around her waist. Bucky lifted her, crushing her to his chest, deepening the kiss. She sighed, and he felt her body tremble in his arms. He took a step to the left and eased her onto the bed, lying her beneath himself. He had a sudden urge to run his hands over every inch of her body, to touch her everywhere, to let his lips drift over her skin, to have her naked body pressed against his.

*Which was why he broke off the kiss and pushed himself to his feet. They’d never talked about that part of their upcoming marriage, never discussed if they were going to take _that_ step. He wasn’t going to push her into something they both might regret.

“I better go,” he muttered, escaping the room as quickly as he could.

When he got downstairs, Steve was sitting on the front stoop, waiting for him. Bucky punched him on the shoulder as he passed him, heading for the SUV parked at the curb. “Let’s go, punk,” he yelled over his shoulder.

Steve jogged after him. “What’s your problem, jerk?” he asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Nothing,” Bucky shrugged. “Just wanted to get done so we could get back.”

“Fine,” Steve muttered, narrowing his eyes at his friend. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Once they were on their way, Bucky turned to Steve. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“The Nest,” Steve replied. “Clint’s supplying the alcohol for tonight, but I have to pick it up. You get to help load it.”

“Manual labor,” Bucky grumbled. “Great. You’re such a great friend.”

“The best,” Steve laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, are you good with sharing the engagement party? Peggy told me to press the issue.”

“Well, Y/N and I are engaged, and we do need to let people know,” Bucky said. “It’s kind of short notice to invite anybody from work…”

“Like you’re friends with any of those assholes,” Steve scoffed. “Of course, if Y/N has any friends she’d like to invite -”

“She doesn’t have any friends,” Bucky snorted.

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. He pinched the bridge of his nose and silently chastised himself. He couldn’t paint Y/N in a bad light, it would just raise more questions as to why he was marrying her.

“I mean, she doesn’t have any friends in the city,” he corrected himself. “They...they all live out of state. This’ll be good, the party. She’ll love it.”

“Okay,” Steve said, drawing the word out. Bucky was pretty sure his best friend didn’t believe him. The lies were just piling one on top of another. It was getting hard to remember what was the truth and what wasn’t. He couldn’t wait for this weekend to be over.

* * *

Once you caught your breath after the far too brief make out session with Bucky, you headed downstairs to find Peggy. You hoped whatever she had planned would keep your mind off of what amounted to yet another rejection from Bucky, a rejection that had stung. You didn’t want to think about what it meant.

Peggy was all smiles when you found her, chattering away about the party and how excited she was. You couldn’t help but smile. Peggy was a dream come true, the kind of friend you’d always dreamed of having - sweet, unassuming, but also tough as nails, the kind of woman who took no shit from anyone. You envied her. She did all of that without being an ice queen, like you. And for some reason, she liked you. The two of you had hit it off almost immediately; she made you feel comfortable, seemed to enjoy talking to you, and she was friends with Bucky. You hoped that maybe she could be friends with you.

She dragged you upstairs into her and Steve’s bedroom as she talked, stopping in front a set of closet doors, which she threw open. “Now, I know this is a bit presumptuous of me, and I apologize if you do have something, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask. I wasn’t sure if you had anything with you that you could wear to a party,” she said. “So, I thought I’d offer up my closet.”

“I couldn’t possibly -” you murmured.

“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re practically family. You will be once you marry Bucky. Family helps each other out.”

You and Peggy spent the next hour together, dragging one dress after another out of the closet, all while Peggy asked you about a million questions, most of which you were able to bullshit your way through. You needed to study that binder of information and soon.

You finally settled on a beautiful green and black chiffon dress with an empire waist, flattering to your figure, which was fuller than Peggy’s. You had a pair of black heels that would work perfectly with it, along with a gorgeous gold chain you could wear.

It wasn’t until you and Peggy were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee, that everything you were doing started to sink in, that you started to realize everything that Bucky had that you didn’t. Peggy had made some offhand comment about spending Christmas together, and it came at you like a punch to the gut.  Your heart started to pound and you couldn’t quite catch your breath. You shoved yourself to your feet and made some lame excuse to Peggy about needing some air before slipping out the back door and sprinting across the yard. You found yourself sitting on the back patio steps of Bucky’s parents’ house - his house now, according to Peggy - staring off into space, wondering if this sham marriage you plunged into without thinking was really such a great idea.

You didn’t realize Bucky had come into the yard until he stepped into your field of vision, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You rose to your feet, swiping at the tears on your face. “Do you know how lucky you are, Bucky? You have people who love you, who care about you, who want to see you at Christmas; you have all that and I don’t and I forgot what it’s like to have people in your life who care about you.” You paced back and forth across the patio, your hands running through your hair. “Jesus, Bucky, what are we doing? We can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Steve’s voice drifted across the backyard.

You swung around to see him standing behind you, right by the gate that led to his yard. Standing beside him was Brock Rumlow, the immigration agent assigned to your case.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Steve asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky mirrored his best friend, arms crossed, staring across the yard. “Y/N and I are getting married. That’s all.”

Rumlow stepped forward. “Look, James, I’m going to give you a chance to make this right. You can go back home to New York, no fines, no jail time, no questions asked. And Y/N goes back to Canada, where she will stay for a year, at which time she can apply for a new work visa. No one goes to jail, no one is any worse for wear. You have thirty seconds to decide. The clock is ticking.”

“Bucky?” Steve prompted.

Your eyes jumped between Bucky and Steve, almost identical looks of stubbornness and determination on their faces. You were going to end this, now. You were about to open your mouth, confess to everything, and take the deal, when Bucky reached over and took your hand, pulling you against his side.

“Three years ago, I started working for Y/N. Six month ago, we started dating, fell in love, and I asked her to marry me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have an engagement party to get ready for.” He pushed past Steve and Rumlow, dragging you after him.

“Bucky,” you mumbled, but he didn’t stop, his pace picking up until you were practically sprinting across the yard, into the house, and up the stairs. He only released your hand when you were inside the bedroom with the door closed behind you. He paced back and forth in front of the door.

“Bucky,” you repeated.

He finally stopped, his chest heaving, his brow furrowed in anger. “What?” he snapped.

“You don’t have to do this,” you replied. “I’ll...I’ll think of something else. I’ll go home to Canada, anything. But you don’t have to do this.”

Bucky was shaking his head before the words were even out of your mouth. “No, Y/N, we’re doing this. We made a deal and I’m not backing out. And neither are you. Now get ready for the party, we’re going to make sure everybody that comes is convinced we’re in love.”

He spun on his heel, stalked across the room, yanked open the door and disappeared down the hall.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky picks a wedding date and the two of you take a step neither of you anticipated taking.

Hair was perfect, makeup was perfect, and the dress looked better than you’d imagined. You slipped into your black heels and took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t ready for this, not even a little. But, Bucky was ready to put on a show, and you needed this, needed it if you were going to stay in the country. You’d worked too hard to rise in the ranks at Stark Industries to let it all slip away from you.

“I can do this,” you mumbled.

The bedroom door opened and Bucky called your name. You stepped out of the bathroom, smiling shyly at the man standing in front of you. He looked insanely gorgeous in his dark jeans and a gray t-shirt with a black jacket.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, his blue eyes wide, drifting over you.

“Wh-what?” you stammered.

“You look incredible,” he said. “Gorgeous.”

You put your hands on your hip, raised an eyebrow, and glared at Bucky. “What exactly are you implying, James? Do I normally look like crap?”

“It’s Bucky, not James,” he chuckled. “And you know that’s not what I meant. You just took me by surprise.”

You rolled your eyes. “That is a terrible answer, but I do know what you mean. You don’t look so bad yourself.” You cleared your throat. “So, um, are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he shrugged. He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

You nodded and took his hand, letting him pull you close. To your surprise, he pressed a kiss to your temple and squeezed your hand.

“I swear everyone is here, right down to our first grade teacher. I’ll try to stick close, but if you get backed into a corner, you’re going to have to bullshit your way out of it. Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.” He smiled at you. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

Bucky hadn’t been lying when he said everyone was there. As you descended the stairs, all you could see were crowds of people filling the house. You unconsciously edged closer to Bucky, clutching his hand tight. You didn’t know any of these people and for all you knew, they still thought of you as Bucky’s bitchy boss.

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist. “Breathe, Y/N. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know any of these people,” you hissed.

“You know Peggy and Steve,” Bucky corrected you. “And Wanda, Sam, Pietro, and Clint. They’re all here. If it gets too bad, look for a friendly face.”

“Okay,” you mumbled. You weren’t sure how many of them were friendly, though.

The two of you waded into the crowd, Bucky stopping to introduce you to several people. By the time you made it across the room to where Steve and Peggy were standing, your head was spinning.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N,” Steve smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you doing okay?”

“This is a little overwhelming,” you replied.

“Sorry,” Steve chuckled. “I think Peggy invited literally everyone we know.”

“Bucky?” The lilting voice could be heard over the crowd. “Bucky!”

You turned to see a petite redhead making her way across the room, pushing through the crowds of people. She came to a stop in front of Bucky, head tipped to the side, a hand on her hip, and a smirk on her face.

“Natasha,” Bucky said.

“How’s my favorite ex-boyfriend?” she purred, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

“I’m just great,” he replied coldly. “You remember my fiancee, Y/N? I believe you met her the other night.” He took hold of your upper arm and pulled you close.

Natasha nodded at you, a less than pleasant look on her face. She was as welcoming as she’d been when you first met her. That time she’d been unable to keep the astonishment off of her face when Peggy had introduced you as Bucky’s girlfriend and her mouth had literally fallen open when Bucky had announced you were getting married. She’d even had the nerve to shoot you a dirty look and muttered “bullshit” under her breath.

“Right, the  _ fiancee _ ,” Natasha mumbled, making air quotes with her fingers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky snapped.

“Please, Buck,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’ll never get married. I mean, you do know why I said no when you asked me to marry you, don’t you?”

“Because you’re a cold hearted bitch?” he growled.

“You’re funny,” Natasha laughed. “I didn’t marry you, Bucky Barnes, because you’re really not the marrying type. I knew you weren’t doing it because you loved me, but because you thought you needed to.” She looked at you, eyeing you up and down. “In fact, I doubt you’re marrying her because you love her.”

“What are you talking about?” you blurted. Your heart was hammering about a thousand miles an hour. Did she know? How could she know?

“Look, Y/N, no offense to you, but I doubt you’ll be marrying this man any time soon. To Bucky, marriage equals being tied down, it means he’s turning into his father. And we all know that the last thing Bucky wants to do is turn into his father.” Natasha tossed her head, her red hair falling over her face. “Trust me, James Buchanan Barnes will never get married.”

“Nat! You’re here!” Clint appeared behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. “Come settle an argument between me and Sam.” He dragged her backwards, waving over his shoulder at you and Bucky.

You turned to Bucky, ready to say something, not that you were sure what, but the look on his face stopped you cold.

“Bucky?” you whispered.

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” he growled.

Your mouth fell open and the only thing you could manage to spit out was a high and squeaky “what?”

“I said, we’re getting married tomorrow,” he repeated. “We’re getting married before we go back to Manhattan.”

“You...I don’t think…” You dragged in a deep breath. You were trying to wrap your brain around the thought of being married by tomorrow. To Bucky. You weren’t quite sure why it frightened you so much, why you felt a hard knot of fear in your stomach. After all, it was what you wanted, what you had to do to stay in the country, to keep your job. You should be ecstatic it was going to happen so fast. “How...how are we going to pull that off?”

“Oh, trust me, it’s happening.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

Bucky couldn’t sleep, not that he’d been expecting to. He was lying on the floor, his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. He’d spent the entire evening making arrangements to marry Y/N. He’d waited a couple of hours until the party had started to wind down before he cornered Steve and begged him to help. Between the two of them, they’d managed to find an available justice of the peace, while also keeping the guest list to only their core group of friends. Peggy, who’d been absolutely thrilled when Bucky told her, decided the impromptu wedding would be in the backyard, under the tree. Y/N had just sat at the kitchen table, watching, a look on her face that Bucky couldn’t quite decipher. She’d been unusually quiet.

Even after everyone had cleared out and they’d gone upstairs, she hadn’t said much. She’d disappeared into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later in the shorts and t-shirt she’d been sleeping in, and crawled into the bed. When he tried to strike up a conversation, she’d told him she was tired and just wanted to sleep, turning her back to him.

He’d sat on the balcony for almost an hour, watching her through the glass doors, but she hadn’t moved once. He’d wanted to go to Y/N and promise her everything would be alright, but he also wanted to tell her that he couldn’t do this, couldn’t lie for two years. Shit, he didn’t know what he wanted. 

Before he had gone inside, he had grabbed his phone and sent an email to Rumlow.

_ Wedding is tomorrow at eleven. Feel free to come. See the truth for yourself. _

He sat up, punched the pillow a couple of times, and adjusted the blanket, then he laid back down, not that it helped. He had a feeling he was going to be awake all night, rehashing the evening over and over. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep.

“Bucky? You awake?” Y/N’s voice drifted over the end of the bed.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Y/N said. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about all of this, Bucky.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky sighed. “Really.”

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“We are talking, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“You’re a smartass, James. I’m being serious.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Of course we can talk.”

“Can you come up here? Please?”

Bucky climbed to his feet and sat on the end of the bed. He crossed his arms and waited, squinting in the dark.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“You okay?” he asked.

Y/N sat up, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “I’ve really screwed everything up,” she sighed. “My life. Your life.”

Bucky shook his head. “You haven’t screwed anything up. I agreed to this.”

“Agreed to mess up your life for two years,” she mumbled.

“Y/N -” he started.

“No, Bucky, it’s okay,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’m just having a pity party right now.” She laughed, the sound hollow and empty. “I just have to learn to deal with having a husband who wants to keep our relationship strictly platonic, who runs away rather than kiss me for one second more.”

His head snapped up. “Is that what this is about? What happened earlier today?”

“You ran off, as if kissing me scared the shit out of you.” She brushed a hand over her face and even though he couldn’t see her in the dark room, he knew she was crying.

Bucky reached across the bed, grabbed Y/N by the upper arms and dragged her across the bed, until her face was just inches from his. “What scared me was that I didn’t want to stop kissing you,” he rasped.

She sighed, his name just ghosting past her lips, the sound his undoing. He pulled her closer and brushed his lips across hers, his arms slipping around her waist, his hands sliding beneath the back of her shirt, her skin warm to the touch. Bucky pulled her into his lap, her legs on either side of his, her breasts pressed to his chest.

Her hands slid into his hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, holding him to her, her mouth opening to invite him in. He let his tongue drift over her lips and into her mouth, exploring, tasting, savoring. She moaned a little, the sound making his cock twitch. His hands settled on her waist, squeezing, pulling her forward, his hips rising up to press into hers, his cock immediately hardening at the feel of the warmth emanating from between her legs. She moaned again, her grip on his hair tightening as she ground down on him, nothing between them but a couple thin layers of cloth.

That moan pushed Bucky over the edge, narrowing his focus, the only thought in his head was how he could get her to make that sexy sound again. He shoved her shirt up, pushing it over her head, letting it fall to the floor, adding his own seconds later. He wanted,  _ needed _ , to feel her skin against his. He hugged her close and pushed her down on the bed, settling over her, his lips traveling over her neck and shoulders. He ducked his head and took her breast his mouth, caressing it gently with his tongue.

Y/N opened her legs, pulling him tight against her, her hands sliding inside his cotton sweatpants, beneath his underwear, her fingers digging into his bare ass as he rutted against her. They were both moaning, murmuring, groaning, tearing at each other’s remaining clothes, until they were completely naked in each other’s arms, hands everywhere, kissing, long, deep, intense, like nothing he’d ever experienced, like nothing he’d expected.

Her hand was between his legs, stroking him, caressing him, and oh God, he was so hard it hurt. He buried his face against the side of her neck, sucking at the skin beneath her ear, his hips thrusting with the movements of her hand. 

“Touch me, James,” she breathed in his ear, her lips drifting along the lobe.

Bucky growled, his hand sliding down her stomach, caressing her, two fingers pressing into her, his thumb circling her clit. She gasped, her hips coming off the bed to meet his fingers. Her hand was back in his hair, tugging gently, her mouth on his ear, begging him not to stop, begging him to make love to her.

He covered her mouth with his, kissing her as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of her, dragging out the moment. He was desperate to be inside her, to feel her warmth surrounding him, but he also didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to be anywhere or doing anything but this.

Y/N’s back arched and her body trembled, her fingers digging into his shoulders, those perfect moans falling from her lips. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He released her, almost falling over in his haste to grab his jeans and yank the condom from his wallet. He was back over her in a second, ripping open the condom, and rolling it down his aching shaft. He pulled Y/N’s legs around his waist and eased into her, an inch at a time, peppering her neck and chest with kisses as he thrust into her.

“James,” she moaned, the sound like sweet music in his ears. He was completely lost in her, wanting nothing more than to hear those gorgeous noises coming from her over and over again. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back, still buried inside of her, needing to see her with the moonlight washing over her, needing to see how she looked with his hands on her and his cock deep inside of her. 

She put her hands on his chest, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips as she rode him, so slow, so perfect, her nails biting into his skin, and Jesus, it felt fucking amazing.

Bucky cupped one breast in his hand, kneading it gently, his other hand between her legs, his thumb rubbing fast, hard circles against her clit, pushing her toward orgasm. She wasn’t going to last long, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, mouth open, perfect moans of ecstasy falling from her mouth. She let go a few seconds later, gasping his name, her walls clenching around me. He groaned, his hands moving to her waist to pull her down as he thrust up, the sensation utterly amazing. He came with her mouth on his, kissing him.

When it was over, they laid curled side by side, chest to chest, his forehead pressed to hers, exchanging the occasional kiss. She laced her fingers with his, sighing as she rested her head on his chest and fell asleep.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes. He didn’t regret being with her, not one bit, but now that the moment had passed, now that they had crossed the line and had sex, he couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for their marriage of convenience. For Bucky, sleep was a long time coming.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's wedding day.

Wedding day.

You woke up earlier than you’d expected, considering how late you’d been up with Bucky. The only reason you’d woken up was because there was a very warm body wrapped around you and you were hot; you felt like you were sitting in a sauna fully dressed and in your heaviest winter coat. One of Bucky’s arms was thrown over you, his hand resting just below your breast, the other beneath your head, like a pillow. He had one knee pushed between your legs, his other leg thrown over yours, his warm breath blowing against your neck. You didn’t move though, despite the heat surrounding you. You liked it. A lot. Instead, you turned your head a little to peek over your shoulder at Bucky’s peaceful face.

A rush of memories from the previous night filled your head, making you flush, though you weren’t sure if it was with embarrassment or desire. You hadn’t expected that to happen, hadn’t expected to have sex with Bucky, you’d just wanted to talk to him, apologize for putting him in this position, for making things awkward for him. But sitting there next to him on the bed, in the dark, you’d found yourself wishing that the two of you really were in love, that this wasn’t a marriage of convenience meant to keep you in the country, that he felt the same desire for you that you felt for him. When he’d told you he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop kissing you, you were able to let yourself believe that maybe that might still be possible.

Of course, the harsh light of day made all of that fade away and you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Bucky hated you and everything about your marriage. Because honestly, who could love somebody who was forcing them to get married?  

You felt your stomach clench in fear, and you couldn’t help but push yourself closer to Bucky. He mumbled something unintelligible and tightened his hold on you, his nose brushing against the back of your neck. You took hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. You wished you could stay there forever - forget the wedding, forget immigration, forget everything, just you and Bucky locked away together forever. You closed your eyes and willed yourself not to cry.

After a few minutes, Bucky grunted, untangled his feet from yours, and rolled over, though he didn’t wake up. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table, groaning inwardly. Only a few hours to go. You slipped out of the bed, gathered your clothes, quickly put them on, kissed Bucky on the forehead, and stepped outside, closing the balcony door behind you. You sat down on one of the chairs, pulled your knees up to your chest, and wrapped your arms around them. It was beautiful out here, quieter than New York with a beautiful view of the ocean. You didn’t understand why Bucky had left.

Just a few more hours and you would be married to Bucky. You’d have a family - albeit, a makeshift family, but still a family - something you hadn’t had since you were sixteen years old. When you’d made this insane deal with Bucky, you hadn’t thought about everything that would be changing in your life. Being here, meeting the people he cared about, made you realize all of the things you were missing out on by being alone. Those realizations were starting to scare you.

For a second, it felt as if your life was flashing before your eyes, all of the wrong choices you’d made, the things you could have done differently. You were terrified of what was to come. You glanced back through the door at Bucky’s sleeping form, nothing visible but the top of his head. You could get used to seeing him in your bed. Marrying him would definitely accomplish that.

You pushed the doubt and fear away and rose to your feet. You needed to get ready for the wedding. The thought made your stomach jump and a cold, clammy sweat broke out all over your body. You closed your eyes, clutched the balcony railing, and took a deep breath.

You could do this. You had to.

* * *

“You know, I keep finding you over here,” Steve said from the doorway.

Bucky looked up from the couch in his father’s office. He’d snuck over here after he’d woken up to find himself alone in bed, Y/N nowhere to be seen. He’d just needed a few minutes to think. A few minutes had turned into almost an hour.

“You hiding?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head and laughed. “Maybe,” he shrugged.

Steve sat on one of the chairs beside the couch. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Bucky replied.

“Buck -”

“I know, Steve,” he sighed. He sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know what you’re thinking. The whole marriage thing? You never said anything after that immigration agent showed up.”

“I’m not one to judge -” Steve said.

“Bullshit,” Bucky chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I’m not gonna lie, I would love to know what the hell is going on with you two, why you’re rushing into this marriage. I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He shifted uneasily. “Look, Buck, I like Y/N, I really do. And I honestly believe you feel something for her. But, marriage? After only six months of date and what, a week of being engaged? You’re really going to marry her?”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. “I’m marrying her.”

“To help her stay in the country?” Steve muttered.

“That’s not -”

Steve put his hand up, stopping whatever it was Bucky was going to say. “Then why are you hiding in your parents’ house?” he asked.

“I’m not hiding.”

“But you are,” Steve argued. He looked at his watch. “You’re getting married in less than two hours and you’re sitting in your parents’ house where no one can find you or talk to you.”

“You found me,” Bucky pointed out.

“I know you,” Steve said. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’m just nervous.”

“This isn’t nerves, this is...something else,” Steve pointed out.

“Did you say anything to anybody? About Rumlow?” Bucky asked.

“No,” his best friend shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. Not that I really know the story anyway. Besides, Peggy adores Y/N. She can’t understand why you ever said you hated her. I’m sure the hell not gonna tell her anything. If you want everyone to know the truth, the real truth behind the marriage, I’m sure you’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

Bucky could only nod and scrub a hand over his face. He and Steve sat in silence for a few minutes, no words necessary, not between them. Steve knew the truth, even without Bucky telling him. In fact, Steve was probably more aware of the truth than Bucky was. He knew his friend better than he knew himself sometimes.

“You ready to get married?” Steve finally asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bucky answered, rising to his feet. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

A half an hour before the wedding was scheduled to start, you were sitting in the mudroom off the kitchen, hiding. Not that you would ever admit that was what you were doing, but if the truth were to be told, that was exactly what you were doing.

Every second that the clock ticked closer to making your marriage to Bucky a reality, another wave of guilt washed over you. It had started that morning after you’d crawled out of his arms and it had just gotten worse as the day progressed. You’d finally needed a few minutes to get your head on straight. Only it wasn’t working.

“You okay?”

You jumped, your heart skipping a beat. Bucky stood in the doorway, grinning sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Steve’s looking for you. It’s almost time to start.”

He looked good, not that he didn’t always look good. You’d barely seen him all morning, just passed him a couple of times in the hallways, both of you trying to avoid looking at each other. It couldn’t have been more awkward if you’d tried.

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, right?” you mumbled.

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, I don’t think our marriage is starting off on the right foot anyway, so it’s not like it really matters, now does it?” He shook his head and pushed his hair out of his face, an exasperated sigh coming from him.

“Are you sure you want to do this, James?” you asked. Again.

“How many times are you going to ask me that question?” he snapped. “I agreed to this. Let’s just get it over with, shall we? I’ll tell Steve where you are.” He turned and stalked off.

You put your head in your hands, sighing heavily. This was a fantastic way to start a marriage, with your husband-to-be hating you and a rushed marriage. You waited until Bucky rounded the corner and disappeared down the hall before you rose to your feet and straightened the dress you’d borrowed from Peggy. A few seconds later, Steve came around the corner.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his arm.

“As I’ll ever be,” you sighed, slipping your arm through his.

* * *

Bucky hadn’t realized he’d be this nervous, standing there in front of God and all of his friends, waiting for his fake fiancee to come down the aisle, escorted by his best friend. Everyone he loved and care about was sitting in Steve’s backyard, staring at him, including Rumlow, that damn immigration agent. No wonder he was nervous. 

The intimate group of people rose to their feet as the music started, Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, all of them turning to look at Y/N, including Bucky. His eyes skirted past Rumlow, who was leaning against the porch railing at the bottom of the steps, watching him. Bucky refused to make eye contact with the immigration agent, instead looking past him to Y/N, arm in arm with Steve.

Y/N looked stunning, absolutely beautiful, heart stoppingly gorgeous, and every other cheesy adjective he could think of to describe the way she looked. She was wearing an off-white dress that just skimmed her ankles, tight at the waist, sleeveless, hugging her curves. She had a death grip on Steve’s arm, staring straight ahead, her brow furrowed in irritation, the fakest smile he’d ever seen plastered across her face.

They made it to the end of the makeshift aisle, under the huge oak tree, where Bucky was standing beside Chester Phillips, an old friend of his father’s and a local justice of the peace. Steve squeezed Y/N’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before releasing her. She hesitated for a second, glancing at first Steve, then Peggy, as they each took their spots beside them as witnesses. When she looked back at Bucky, he smiled reassuringly, mouthing “it’s okay” at her. She took a deep breath and took her place beside him, though Bucky couldn’t help but notice how her eyes kept darting around at the small group of people gathered around them.

They were only a few minutes into the ceremony, Chester had barely even started to speak when Y/N started fidgeting and clearing her throat.

Bucky got as close to her as he could, his hand on her elbow. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“No, no I’m not,” she shook her head. “In fact, I can’t do this.” She took a couple of steps back and raised her voice. “I’m sorry everyone, but...I can’t...I can’t do this.”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he muttered.

“I can’t do this, James. I can’t make you do this.” She turned to face his obviously confused friends. “Um...thank you all for coming. I have something to say, a confession actually.” She shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Uh, I’m Canadian, with an expired visa and I am about to be deported. And because I didn’t want to leave the life I’ve built for myself over the last few years, didn’t want to lose everything I worked for, I...well, I forced James - Bucky - to marry me. See, James has...Bucky has a wonderful work ethic.” She cleared her throat. “For the last three years, I’ve watched him work harder than anyone at Stark Industries, and I knew if I threatened to take everything he’d worked for away from him, I could get him to do anything I wanted. So...um...so I blackmailed him to come here and lie to you...all of you. I thought it would be easy to watch him do it.” She stopped and shrugged one shoulder. “But I was wrong. Turns out, it’s not easy to ruin someone’s life once you find out how wonderful they are.” She smiled sadly at the people gathered around them. “Please, please don’t let this come between you and Bucky. This was my fault.” She turned to face him, that closed off look on her face. “James, we had a business arrangement. You held up your end of the deal and I’ll be sure to hold up mine.”

Bucky grabbed her arm, trying to stop her, but she pulled free. She smiled weakly at Steve and Peggy, who were now standing together under the tree. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before hurrying back toward the house. As she passed Rumlow, Bucky heard her mutter “you’re taking me back to Manhattan” before she disappeared into the house.


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being left at the altar, Bucky has some decisions to make.

Bucky stared after Y/N, speechless, shocked, caught off guard, unable to process what was happening for almost a full minute. Once he snapped out of the shock induced trance, he took a couple of steps toward the house, but before he could follow her, he was swarmed by Steve and Peggy, and all of his other friends, questions flying at him from every direction.

“Bucky? What the hell is going on?” Peggy’s arms were crossed and her foot was tapping. She was pissed.

“I’ll explain everything, just...just let me go talk to Y/N.” He pushed past his friends, only to come face to face with Rumlow.

“Rumlow,” he sighed.

“It looks like she let you off the hook, Mr. Barnes,” Rumlow smirked. “No charges will be pressed, now that she’s going back to Canada.” He stuck his hand out, but Bucky only stared at him, refusing to shake it.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, his hand dropping back to his side.

Bucky shoved him out of the way and ran up the steps, right into Natasha, who put her hands on his arms, a sad smile on her face.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood for your gloating, Nat.”

Natasha put a hand on her chest, her red stained lips parted in a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. “Bucky, you were just left at the altar,” she gasped. “I would never gloat.”

“Yes, you would Nat,” Bucky corrected her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me -” He stepped around her, heading for the back stairs.

“I think she’s already gone,” Natasha called after him.

Bucky sprinted up the backstairs, taking them two at a time. He had to stop Y/N from leaving. He ran down the hall and burst through the bedroom door, her name on his lips.

She was gone.

Laying in the middle of the bed was a piece of paper, folded in half, his name hastily scrawled across it.

_ Bucky - I’m sorry that I dragged you into this mess. It was stupid of me and a mistake. Don’t worry, I’ll follow through with my promise; I’ll recommend you head up the Prosthetics Division as soon as I get back to Manhattan. You have amazing friends, Bucky. Don’t throw that away. I really am sorry. Take care of yourself. - Y/N _

“Shit,” he mumbled, tossing the letter to the bed.

“Well, that was interesting,” Steve said from behind him.

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning to glare at his best friend. But Steve wasn’t laughing, or smirking, or intentionally being an asshole. He genuinely looked like he felt sorry for Bucky.

“You know what really gets me about this” Bucky ranted. “It’s just so...so...it’s such a Y/N thing to do. So typical. She doesn’t think about anybody but herself and...and..how this...what this...shit.” He ran out of air and he could no longer form a coherent sentence. He felt like he was all over the place. “She’s so goddamn selfish. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to marry her? I’ve lost my fucking mind.”

“Buck?” Steve interjected.

“What?” he snapped.

“You love her, don’t you?” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t think I did, ” Bucky said. “I thought all of this was just a way to advance my career, that I’d suffer through two years and then we’d call it quits. I never thought I’d...that I’d...feel like this.” He blew out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. “This fucking sucks.”

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I really don’t know.”

* * *

 

“Jimmy? Jimmy?” You dropped the small box in your arms on the desk of one of the office assistants and nudged his chair with your foot. “I need you to have the boxes in my office sent to this address.” You set a piece of paper on top of the box and brushed a hand through your hair. You’d been here for almost two hours, ever since you’d gotten back to the city with Rumlow, working to furiously pack up your office. It was surprising how little personal effects you had. You’d promised the immigration agent you would finish up in the office within a couple hours, leaving plenty of time to make your flight. He’d vowed he’d be back to personally escort you to the airport and make sure you boarded your plane to Toronto.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” the young assistant cleared his throat and pointed over your shoulder.

“What?” you sighed, turning to see what he was pointing at.

Bucky was walking toward you, chest heaving, slightly out of breath, his hair hanging in his eyes. “Hey,” he panted.

“James,” you stated, glancing around at all of the people milling about your office, all of the people who had spent the day sneaking peeks at you as you packed, whispering about you. You focused on Bucky. “Why are you...why are you panting?”

“Because I was running,” he replied, walking directly towards you.

“Oh, really?” you quipped. “All the way from Brooklyn?”

“I need to talk to you,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time to talk. I have a plane to Toronto to catch in a couple of hours.” You turned your back on him, focusing your attention back on Jimmy, the young assistant, trying to pretend that the man you’d fallen in love with wasn’t standing behind you. “Okay, Jimmy, I need you -”

“Y/N?” you heard Bucky say.

“- to call the movers, get them to -” you continued.

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled. “Stop talking!”

You turned again, biting the inside of your cheek, arms crossed. Bucky was now standing less than a foot away from you, towering over you.

“I need to say something,” he announced. “This’ll just take a second.”

“Fine. What?” you snapped.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Four days ago, I hated you. I used to dream about you getting hit by a bus, or one of those horse and carriages, or, I don’t know, poisoned -”

“Oh, well, that’s nice,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Yeah, I told you to stop talking,” he demanded. He waited until you’d closed your mouth before continuing. “Then we had our little adventure in Brooklyn, and things changed. Things changed when we kissed, and when you told me about your tattoo, and when we spent the night together.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t mean any -”

“But it did,” he interrupted. “But I didn’t realize any of this until I was standing alone, under that tree, wife-less. So, you can imagine my disappoint when it suddenly dawned on me that the woman I love is about to be kicked out of the country.”

It felt like your heart stopped when those words came out of Bucky’s mouth, words you’d never thought anyone, especially Bucky, would say to you.

“So, Y/N, I want to marry you,” he murmured, stepping closer to you. “Because I’d like to date you.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, the tears threatening, though you weren’t sure whether you were going to start sobbing or laughing. You took a step closer to Bucky, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and whispered, “Trust me, you don’t want to marry me.”

“Yes, I do,” Bucky insisted.

God, you wanted to believe him, but something deep inside of you wouldn’t let you believe that someone like Bucky could ever love someone like you. You shook your head. “See, there’s a reason I’ve been alone all these years. It’s just easier that way. I think it would be best if we forgot everything that happened and I just left.”

Bucky took a step closer, positioning himself so he was only inches away from you. “That would be easier,” he agreed, nodding.

The tears were sliding freely down your face. “I’m scared,” you shrugged.

“Me too,” he smiled. He tossed his jacket on the desk beside your box, cupped your head in his hands, leaned down, and caught your lips in his, pulling you close, kissing you like the two of you were the only people in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee or something?” you murmured when the two of you broke apart.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he chuckled, gathering you in his arms. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

* * *

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, or the giddy feeling rushing through you as Bucky wrapped one arm around you and used the other to unlock the hotel room door, pushing it open with his foot. He lifted you off of your feet, both arms around your waist, carrying you into the room and kicking the door closed with his foot.

You tossed your bouquet on the dresser beside the television before Bucky set you on the edge of the bed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, stripped off his jacket and sat in the chair opposite the bed.

“How’re you feeling, Mrs. Y/L/N-hypen-Barnes?” he asked.

“Not too bad, Mr. Barnes,” you grinned. “You?” You reached up and pulled the pins from your hair, releasing the headpiece and the curls they were holding in place, your hair falling around your face. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Pretty good,” Bucky shrugged. “I mean, we made it through the ceremony this time, so that’s something.”

You pulled off your shoes and threw one of them at your new husband. He flinched, laughing as it bounced of his arm.

“Smartass,” you giggled.

He was a smartass, but he was correct, you had made it through the ceremony this time. It had been a small, intimate wedding, much like the first time, just Bucky’s close friends and this time around, a few friends from work, including Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts. Clint had hosted not only the wedding, but the reception, at The Nest. It couldn’t have been more perfect. 

Bucky kicked off his own shoes and slipped his suspenders off of his shoulders so they were hanging off of him. He rose to his feet, moved in front of you, and planted a knee on the bed beside you. He slid his hand up your side and took hold of the zipper on your dress, catching your lips in his as he eased the zipper down, his fingers grazing your skin. His other hand tangled in your hair, his touch gentle as he lowered you to the bed.

He made short work of your dress, peeling it from your body, his lips drifting over your skin every so often. When you were finally down to the soft white bra and panties you had gotten especially for this day, he hovered over you, his mouth now on your neck, moving over your collarbone and down to the valley between your breasts. He pushed open your legs with his knees, settling his hips against yours, groaning as he rocked against you. He took hold of the flimsy lace of your bra, pulling it down and cupping your breast in his hand as he wrapped his lips around the delicate pink tip, his tongue laving the nipple hungrily. His fingers danced along the edge of your panties, then over the soft fabric, cupping your sex in his hand, rubbing circles with his palm.

“James,” you hissed.

He released you with a wet pop and grinned at you, licking his lips. He pressed a kiss to the swell of your breast, reached behind you, and unhooked your bra, then he dragged it slowly down your arms, his lips trailing after it. Even after he’d dropped it to the floor, he continued kissing his way down your body, until he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his hands underneath you, lifting you so he could mouth at your silk covered pussy. His fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs, his lips just drifting over you, his breath hot and wet. He was moving so agonizingly slow that you were about to scream, just as his tongue snaked out, licking along the soft folds. He pulled your legs over his shoulders, his tongue probing your entrance, his deft fingers finding and caressing the swollen nub of nerves, one hand splayed across your stomach, holding you down. You were gasping, writhing under his touch, the combination of his mouth and fingers taking you to levels of bliss you hadn’t known existed. 

When Bucky pulled away, his lips moving to kiss the insides of your thighs, you were a boneless mess, sprawled across the bed, your hair stuck to your face with sweat, the blankets crumpled beneath you, yanked out of place by your grasping fingers. Bucky stood up, smiling down at you, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You watched as your husband finished stripping off his clothes, dumping them on the chair, stifling a giggle at the thought that Bucky was actually your husband, and not because you were coercing him to do it, but because he wanted to do it.

“What are you giggling about?” Bucky murmured, climbing onto the bed, leaning over, a hand on either side of your head. He bent down and kissed you, his tongue probing at your lips. 

“You. Me. Married.” You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“And why do you find that funny?” he asked, nuzzling your neck. You could feel the smile on his face, hear the laughter in his voice. “Pretty sure that was what you were after all along.”

“Never thought I’d get this part,” you grinned, running your hands over Bucky’s broad shoulders.

“Well, I can go if you want,” Bucky teased, rolling off of you.

“No, wait,” you laughed, tugging on his arm, pulling him back over you.

“Seriously, I can go,” he shrugged.

“Don’t you dare,” you breathed. “Now come here.” You grabbed his shoulders, loving the feel of his well-defined muscles under your hands.

Bucky laughed as you pulled him in for another kiss, the laughter turning to moans of pleasure as you ran your hands over his body and pulled him against you, the sounds he was making muffled as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands pushing open your legs, the head of his cock brushing at your entrance. He eased into you, taking his time, giving you time to adjust to his substantial length.

Impatient, you wrapped your legs around him, your heels on his ass, pulling him into you, moaning as he rocked forward, sheathing himself in your warmth. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn’t want to wait.

Bucky growled, thrusting forward, his hands in your hair, tipping your head back, kissing your neck as he thrust his hips. Your hips rocked up to meet his, each thrust pushing him deeper and deeper into you. He pumped his hips harder and faster, burying himself deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Yes, James,” you gasped, the coil deep in the pit of your stomach snapping, the orgasm slamming into you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, your back arching, every nerve ending on fire with indescribable pleasure.

Bucky buried his face against the side of your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, his hips pistoning, his hands tight on your hips, another groan coming from him as your walls clenched around him and his orgasm worked its way through him.

He kissed you as he came down, rolling to his side, pulling you with him. He took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, one arm around you, hugging you close.

“Happy?” Bucky whispered.

You pressed your face to his chest, smiling. “I couldn’t be happier,” you breathed.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being married for a few weeks, things are changing for you and Bucky.

“Hey Buck,” Clint yelled. “Where is this going?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder at the small table Clint was carrying. “Put it with the stuff to be donated,” he replied. He hefted the box of books he was carrying up to his shoulder and kissed your cheek, before following Steve out the front door.

You finished putting the remaining dishes in the box, then you sealed it shut with the roll of packing tape on the counter. You didn’t get a chance to do anything else, because Sam swooped in and grabbed the box, smiling at you as he carried it out the front door.

Things were going much quicker than you’d anticipated, especially with eight people packing, rearranging, and cleaning. You’d thought you wouldn’t be able to move in for at least another week, but at the rate things were going, you and Bucky would be settled in his parents’ house by the end of the weekend.

“You ready for this?” Peggy asked from behind you, startling you enough to make you jump.

“I think so,” you laughed, turning around and smiling at your new friend. You’d been worried that Peggy would be angry with you after what happened at your first failed wedding, but she’d been very understanding. Over the last few weeks, since you and Bucky had gotten married, you and Peggy had grown very close. You were both looking forward to being neighbors.

After three hours, the house was cleared of everything you and Bucky had decided to donate and your furniture was moved in. Ten pizzas and a lot of beers later, the two of you had the house to yourself.

You were in the kitchen, rearranging some of the drawers, when Bucky came back from saying goodbye to Steve and Peggy. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“We got a lot done today,” he mumbled.

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair, turned your head, and kissed his cheek. “More than I thought we would,” you whispered. “We could actually be moved in by Sunday.”

“The place is really starting to feel like ours, don’t you think?” Bucky asked, leaning against the counter.

“Definitely,” you nodded. “You sure you’re okay with this? I know there’s a lot of not-so-great memories here for you.”

“Yeah, but there’s more good memories than bad,” Bucky smiled. “I loved growing up here. My parents left me with this house, hoping I would someday raise my own family here.”

“Family?” you gasped. “As in...you and me and...and...a little me or a little you?”

“If you want,” Bucky shrugged.

“Do you want?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his arms. “Absolutely.”

You giggled, your face pressed to Bucky’s chest, your arms sliding around his waist.

“I love you, James,” you murmured.

He kissed the top of your head, hugging you close. “I love you, too, Y/N.”


End file.
